They went home, but my thoughts lingered on Jinye's sudden appearance. How long had he known about Yin's stay in the village? I remembered Lin bringing flowers, assuming it was a simple gesture of kindness. But now, a new question emerged: Did Lin have a deeper connection to Jinye? I knew Yin would certainly ask.
After trailing them, I found myself back at the Dong mansion. It looked deserted, eerily quiet. I arrived before them and decided to look around. Stepping inside, I saw empty liquor bottles scattered across the floor, a stark testament to his suffering. He'd clearly been through more than I'd imagined in my absence. I went upstairs to the master bedroom; it was clean but dusty, indicating he hadn't slept there in a long time. I was still observing when a team of maids arrived and began a flurry of cleaning. As an invisible observer, I slipped out of their way. Just then, Yin stepped through the front door.
A maid quickly shoved the bottles out of sight under a chair. "Welcome, Madam," the house help greeted, a hint of nervous deference in her voice. Yin offered a faint smile, her gaze sweeping across the room, her mood visibly subdued. Her hand unconsciously went to her slightly swollen belly, a gesture of quiet protection. "Zhong, go to your room. I need to have a word with your dad," she instructed, her tone soft but firm. My anticipation spiked; I was practically vibrating with excitement.
"A word like, 'hi'?" Zhong innocently piped up. Yin chuckled softly. "No, sweetie. I want to have a conversation with your father." He grinned and nodded, quietly murmuring, "I'm rooting for you, Daddy," a comment only Jinye caught. For a child with autism, his effort to engage more vocally was remarkable, a testament to his burgeoning comfort and effort. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched Jinye's lips, and he awkwardly patted Zhong's head. Zhong smiled back before heading off.
Yin's gaze sharpened, directly accusing. "Have you been drinking?" Jinye started to deny it, but his eyes landed on a tell-tale bottle near the chair. He cursed under his breath. "Just one bottle," he mumbled, a forced, sheepish grin on his face. Not convinced, Yin walked over to the chair, revealing a small collection of bottles clumsily hidden beneath it. She scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Just one bottle, huh?"
He finally conceded, his shoulders slumping. "Yin… fine. I'm sorry. I couldn't handle things, so I used alcohol to pass the time." His voice was heavy with the weight of loneliness and desperation. "After you left, the house felt empty, silent. I… I just couldn't cope."
Her expression hardened, turning serious, though concern was beginning to etch itself onto her face. "Young Master Dong Jinye, are you out of your mind? You know you're not a drinker. What were you thinking, doing this?" The formality of her address startled him; even during their most bitter arguments, she had never used his full name. He looked genuinely taken aback. "Baby, I'm so sorry. I truly am," he pleaded, desperation in his voice. "What if you had harmed yourself? Or what about our child?" she chastised, her hand instinctively resting on her growing belly, a vivid reminder of their unborn baby. "You have a responsibility now, more than ever!" He simply stood there, repeating apologies. Fed up with his perceived childishness, she turned and walked towards their bedroom. Jinye sank onto the couch, his mind racing. How on earth was he going to win her back? He knew he had to start from scratch. In the past, he'd made no real effort to earn her affection. Now, he questioned if she even loved him anymore. Though their story began with an unexpected one-night stand and a forced marriage, he had fallen for her first, and he still felt himself falling deeper every day. With a renewed determination, he followed her upstairs.
A Seductive Dance: The Power of Proximity
Yin had just emerged from the shower, already dressed in a shimmering, transparent silky corset gown. She sat at the vanity, beginning to gather her hair into an elegant updo. Her pregnancy was subtly visible beneath the sheer fabric, a gentle curve that Jinye's eyes immediately found. His gaze locked onto her, unable to tear away. I watched, amused, as his Adam's apple bobbed uncontrollably.
"Yin," he called, his voice low and incredibly soothing. She looked at him, and it was as if she'd cast a spell. Her eyes seemed to beckon him, yet he dared not move. She rose, maintaining eye contact, and I realized then that she wore nothing beneath the sheer fabric, embracing her changed body with quiet confidence. His gaze traced the contours of her body, lingering on the gentle swell of her abdomen. He willed himself to remain rooted to the spot, knowing that if he moved, he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't reach for her. She had just returned, and he wouldn't do anything unless she clearly desired it, especially now with their baby growing within her. With a gentle, almost inviting smile, she gracefully walked to the bed and slipped beneath the blankets.
"You called me, but you haven't said anything yet," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Can I sleep here tonight?" he blurted out, instantly regretting the words. The room fell silent. "Oh, sorry. I'll just sleep in another room," he quickly added, his face falling.
A soft smile bloomed on her face. "I don't mind sharing a room with you. Besides, you're my husband and the owner of this room. And," she added, her gaze dropping meaningfully to her belly, "you're the father of my child."
Relief washed over him. He beamed at her before heading to the bathroom to shower. When he emerged, dressed only in a vest and shorts, he lay down facing her, feeling incredibly awkward. It felt as though they were strangers. She was already asleep. He hesitated, wondering if he should pull her closer, but decided against it, turning to face the other side. He simply couldn't lie beside her without being able to hold her. "Good night," he whispered, a quiet farewell to the tension of the day.
"Good night? Just that?" she murmured, her voice laced with a playful, seductive quality that made his heart pound. He looked at her, confused. "We've been apart for six months, and after meeting again, all you have to say is 'good night'?" she continued, not annoyed, but in that alluring whisper. He gulped, his mind reeling, unsure how to proceed. She simply smiled and then, reaching out, hugged him, resting her head on his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. He froze, his body rigid with surprise and longing. "Won't you hug me back, or should I just turn around?" she asked, her voice light. Immediately, his arm tightened possessively around her waist, a wide smile spreading across his face. At least, it was a good start.
The Dawn of a New Day
The first rays of dawn filtered through the curtains, painting the master bedroom in soft hues of gold and rose. Yin stirred in her sleep, her head still resting comfortably on Jinye's chest, her arm draped around his waist. He had barely slept, caught in a blissful limbo between disbelief and profound joy. The weight of her body against his, the gentle rhythm of her breathing – it was a dream he hadn't dared to hope for. Every muscle in his body still hummed from the sheer surprise of her embrace, and the warmth radiating from her, and the gentle swell of her pregnancy against him, made the long, cold months of separation feel like a distant, fading nightmare. He tightened his arm around her ever so slightly, pulling her closer, a silent promise forming in his heart: he would never let her go again. He was acutely aware of the precious life growing inside her, a constant reminder of their enduring connection.
He could feel the soft silk of her gown against his skin, the faint scent of her shampoo lingering in the air – a combination that was intoxicating. He turned his head, just enough to press a soft kiss into her hair, inhaling deeply. It was a simple gesture, yet it carried the weight of all his unspoken apologies, all his longing. He wanted to tell her everything, to lay bare the torment he'd endured, the desperate efforts he'd made to find her, even the self-destructive path he'd trod in his despair. But silence felt right, for now. This moment, this fragile reconciliation, was too precious to risk with words that might break the spell.
A few minutes later, Yin's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, adjusting to the light, and then her gaze met his. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes – surprise, perhaps, or a lingering wariness – but it quickly softened into a faint, almost shy smile. "Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep.
"Good morning," he replied, his voice a little rougher than he intended, thick with emotion. He didn't move, afraid to disturb her, afraid to shatter the fragile peace that had settled between them. She stretched languidly, her body arching slightly, and then she slowly disentangled herself from him. A pang of disappointment went through him, but it was quickly replaced by a sense of hope as she simply sat up, turning to face him.
"I need to get Zhong ready for school," she said, her voice more awake now, but still gentle. Her hand instinctively went to her belly again, a subtle, reassuring touch.
He nodded, pushing himself up to sit beside her. "I'll take him," he offered immediately. "And then… I was hoping we could spend some time together. Just us."
She paused, her gaze searching his, as if weighing his sincerity. "Okay," she finally agreed, a small smile gracing her lips. "That sounds… nice."
Relief flooded him, so intense it almost made him lightheaded. "Thank you," he whispered, genuinely grateful.
A Return to Routine and a Tentative Date
The morning unfolded with a surprising sense of normalcy, albeit a slightly awkward one. Jinye helped Yin get Zhong ready, a task he hadn't performed in what felt like an eternity. Zhong, sensing the shift in the atmosphere and his parents' tentative truce, was more vocal than usual. For a child with autism, his chattering excitedly about returning to his "old school" and seeing his friends again was a remarkable display of his comfort and happiness. Jinye drove them, and as they pulled up to the familiar gates of Zhong's specialized school, a sense of relief washed over him. This was a piece of their old life, a stability that Zhong desperately needed and deserved.
After dropping Zhong off, Jinye turned to Yin, a hint of nervousness in his eyes. "So, our date," he began, trying to sound casual. "Anywhere you'd like to go?"
Yin thought for a moment, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of her belly. "How about the old tea house by the river? The one with the lotus pond."
A genuine smile touched Jinye's lips. That tea house held memories – not always happy ones, but significant ones. It was where they'd had some of their most intense conversations, where they'd argued and eventually found fragile common ground. "Perfect," he said, turning the car towards the city.
The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. The unspoken tension from the night before had eased, replaced by a quiet anticipation. When they arrived at the tea house, the familiar scent of brewing tea and blooming lotus flowers filled the air. They settled into a secluded booth overlooking the tranquil pond, the sunlight dappling through the bamboo screens.
A waitress approached, and they ordered their usual – Pu-erh tea for Jinye, Jasmine for Yin. As the warm cups were placed before them, Yin took a sip, her gaze fixed on the shimmering water.
"Jinye," she began, her voice soft but direct, "how long have you known I was here?"
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "About a week," he admitted, watching her reaction closely. "I found out through Lin."
Yin's eyebrows rose slightly. "Lin? How did he even know?"
Jinye took a deep breath. This was the moment for honesty. "Lin grew up with you, didn't he? You two are like siblings."
She nodded, a faint smile touching her lips. "Yes, we are. But how did you know him?"
"I know Lin through business," Jinye explained. "He's a business partner of mine. I missed you a lot that I was ready to find anyone close to you..he was concerned about you. But he never told me where you lived.. he made sure to protect you from me.. while I was proving to him I really wanted you back, and he knew I was looking for you. He… hesitated before letting me see you but on the condition that I respect your decision."
He watched her carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. A myriad of emotions flickered across her face – surprise, understanding, perhaps even a hint of gratitude. "So, he essentially orchestrated our reunion?" she asked, a touch of wonder in her voice.
"In a way," Jinye confirmed. "He knew you still cared about us.. so he watched my sincerity.. then told me where to find you... He wanted to help his business partner, and also… his sister. He wanted us to come back together."
Yin was quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on the lotus flowers. "I see," she finally murmured. "Lin has always been good at pulling strings when he thinks it's for the best." A small, genuine smile bloomed on her face. "I suppose I owe him a big thank you."
Unveiling the Truth and Rebuilding Trust
Jinye reached across the table, his hand hovering uncertainly before gently covering hers. "Yin… I know I messed up. Badly. These past six months have been… hell. I understand why you left, and I don't blame you. I was lost without you, without Zhong. The drinking… it was a desperate attempt to numb the pain, something I never did before you left."
Her gaze met his, and he saw a flicker of the pain he'd caused. "You were drinking, Jinye. A lot. You never dared to consume more than a glass in the past. I can't bear to watch you self-destruct, especially not now that we're expecting another child. And Zhong… he needed stability."
"I know," he confessed, squeezing her hand lightly. "And I'm so sorry. I hit rock bottom. I truly did. But seeing you, seeing Zhong, knowing about our baby… it's like a jolt back to life. I want to be better. I will be better. For us. For Zhong. For our baby." He gently brushed his thumb over her hand, his gaze filled with renewed purpose as he looked at her midsection.
He recounted his struggles in detail, not holding back the shame or the despair. He spoke of the emptiness of the mansion, the endless nights spent alone, the desperate search for any news of her. He even admitted to the extent of his drinking, a confession that clearly pained her, but also seemed to earn a degree of understanding, seeing it for the cry for help it truly was.
"I know words aren't enough," he continued, his voice earnest. "And I don't expect you to forgive me overnight. But I want to earn your trust back. I want to show you that I've changed, that I'm willing to put in the work. Every single day. I want to be the husband and father you and our children deserve."
Yin pulled her hand away gently, but not dismissively. She picked up her tea cup, her gaze distant. "It won't be easy, Jinye," she said, her voice soft but firm. "There's a lot of hurt. A lot of broken trust. And this pregnancy… it's a lot to navigate alone."
"I know," he repeated, his voice filled with resolve. "And I'm ready for it. I'm ready to face whatever you need me to. I want to be there for every step of this pregnancy, for the birth, for everything. Just… please don't give up on us. Don't give up on me."
She finally looked at him, and this time, he saw a glimmer of something he hadn't seen in months – a fragile hope, a hesitant willingness. "I never really gave up, Jinye," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper, her hand unconsciously caressing her belly. "If I had, I wouldn't have been with you last night. I would have just… left for good."
A wave of relief washed over him so profound that he almost gasped. "So there's still a chance?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly with emotion.
She offered a small, tentative smile. "There's always a chance, Young Master Dong Jinye," she said, using the formal address that had startled him the night before, but this time, it was laced with a hint of playfulness, a teasing warmth that made his heart soar. "But you're going to have to work for it. And you're going to need to prove you can be relied upon, especially with another baby on the way."
He grinned, a genuine, heartfelt grin that reached his eyes. "I'm ready," he vowed, his gaze unwavering. "I'm more than ready."
They spent the rest of the afternoon talking, slowly peeling back the layers of hurt and misunderstanding. He asked about her time in the village, the challenges she faced, and the quiet strength she found. She listened as he spoke of his loneliness, his regrets, and his desperate longing for their family to be whole again, now with an even larger family in mind. The conversation wasn't easy, there were still raw nerves and unspoken pains, but it was a start. A real, honest start. The tea house, once a silent witness to their struggles, now bore witness to the tentative beginnings of a new chapter, steeped in honesty and the faint, sweet scent of hope.